


Paper Scars

by softvulcan



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Other, Self Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvulcan/pseuds/softvulcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one time Jim Kirk had everything and the two times his life fell apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Perks of Being a Wallflower](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33125) by Stephen Chbosky. 



A wail pierced the clouds that hung high above. Scurrying feet echoed throughout the halls, followed by more leveled and heavy steps.

Out on the porch, a woman could be seen in a crumpled heap. The scorching afternoon sun poured over her pinched features, washing her golden locks brighter until it was nearly blinding to look at.

“Winona?” “Mom?” They said in unison.

“There’s so much blood.” She whispered, pulling her fingers from her thigh, showing them the sticky substance falling down her slender fingers.

Jim looked up as Frank took in a sharp breathe, confused for the mind of a seven year old.

“Sam, call 911. _Now_!” Frank nearly roared, pushing Jim back into the house.

-

Hours, days, Jim didn’t know anymore, and he was now the middle child; no longer the youngest. Which meant work and responsibilities.

It didn’t matter what anyone said, Jim absolutely adored his baby sister already; all premature weight and near death to their mother.

Natalie, they called her.

Jim was already wrapped around her finger like elastic.

-

The next days, Jim had to suffer through the stiffness of school and church.

He enjoyed the few rare moments when he would stay back at school and show his teachers who he really was.

He never turned work in during school hours, so they bent the rules for him. They wouldn’t let a brilliant mind go to waste.

They watched as he grew academically, and stumbled every now and again.

If Jim was anything, he was resilient.

At the end of English class, he scribbled a poem on yellow paper with lines he outlined with green marker.

He called it ‘Chops,’ after a dog that would never be. The same dog Jim’s mom said had died when she was a little girl, who had guarded the humans and livestock like his own children.

Jim had always wanted a dog, but his older brother, Sam, was allergic to the fur that was shed.

It made life lonely when he read that dogs were a human’s best friend.

His teacher just chuckled at the lack of proper sentence structure, and gave him an A with a gold star.

“Go show your mother, boy, make her proud.” He had said, squeezing his shoulder and pushing him lightly out the door.  
Jim did just that.

Winona cried as much as she had when she nearly lost her baby girl. At first Jim worried he had hurt her by forcing her to remember her past. He felt a flood of relief when she instead lifted Jim into her arms and muttered, “My baby boy.”

Jim didn’t know that would be the last hug he would receive for years.

With Jim still in her arms, Winona pinned the crumpled paper up with a shiny space magnet.

-

He was never a church person- always falling asleep during hymns and prayers.

The priest thought he was irresponsible and lazy, but the nuns saw the bright future he held.

His favorite days were when Father Tracy would take the young catechists out to various areas.  
This time, they would be going to the zoo.

Jim insisted he was old enough to wander alone. They merely scoffed and held his hands.

Jim watched the animals with awe- a deep pout set on his usually beautiful features. His cerulean eyes were fogged and in pain.

A whine escaped his throat, as he tugged his wrist out of the hold it was placed in.

Giving up, Jim slumped and bowed his head in defeat.  
The hours went by until it was time to go back home.

Jim didn’t sing on the bus ride back.

-

Winona giggled as she overheard the conversation between Frank and Jim.

“But what do they mean? They’re just letters.”

Frank had ruffled Jim’s downy hair, and getting on one knee, explained that they were in celebration of Valentine’s Day.

“Valentine’s Day?”

“When someone likes another person, such as the girl who sent you this, it means they really like you.”

“But Spock is beautiful.”

“I guess she thinks the same for you, then.”

Jim had kept his mouth shut for a while after that. The minutes passed by, with the grandfather clock ticking behind them.

“What should I do?” He whispered quietly.

“What you do best,” Winona stepped into the room with her elder son, “Just smile and be honest.”

Frank smiled gently as Winona floated by his side, reaching for her hand and kissing her bony knuckles.

“Jimmy has a girlfriend!” Sam teased, smirking down at him.  
Jim scowled, readying his body to go after him.

A gasp was wrenched from his body as Sam picked him up by the armpits and threw him into the air. Despite Jim’s protest, a giggle escaped through as he landed safely in Sam’s arms.

Out of breath, Jim wriggled free and took hold of Frank’s hand.

“Bedtime.” Jim demanded in his soft child voice.

Frank rolled his eyes at the weak command, but obliged anyway.

“Does our little Jimmy need a bedtime story, too?”

“I’m too old for that, Frank.”

-

At just thirteen, Jim had endured more than a child his age should.

He watched as his brother got into fights, and promised not to tell anyone.

He watched behind walls as his mother screamed at Frank about leaving someplace new; far away from all of them and unable to visit.

He watched as Frank raised his hand in threat, and Winona shrank back; and his vision turned red before he realized Frank lowered it slowly as he saw the monster he was becoming.

-

In English class, they were told to write about their favorite season. Jim didn’t have one, so he just wrote about the current.

He wrote about the leaves that gave his baby sister allergies, the barren trees his brother sometimes fell out of, and the way the kids around the block were antsy for Halloween approaching.

When he turned it in a week later, his teacher frowned at him but gave him the grade he deserved.

Another A; and the promise to make his structure in writing more clear.

His mother refused to put it up with one of the dirty space magnets she had stored at the bottom of the cabinets, not because of embarrassment but she kept saying because the paint was new.

Jim didn’t know what she meant, because the fridge was made of sterling.

-

As Jim took a walk around the block to clear his mind, the neighborhood kids started calling him out.

He picked his pace up, shuffling his feet through the new snow packing the sidewalk.

"Hey, Jimmy!" They taunted him.

One pulled on his arm, and Jim swung back and threw a punch to the closest piece of the other kid’s body he could reach. He heard bone crack, and blood fall onto his knuckles.

Jim gave them a smirk, and tightened his scarf.

The boys watched him walk away with wide eyes, until one shook himself and called out again.

"Jim, did you hear about Father Tracy? Word is the nuns caught him smoking cigars."

Jim froze in his tracks, turning sideways stiffly. “And why are you telling me this?”

"The spot you sit in church? He burned a hole in that pew."

Jim shrugged; he hasn’t been to church in weeks.

"Wanna know why Frank is around your mom so much?"

At the mention of his mother, he turned around fully and gave them his full attention.

"Because she’s leaving you. She got sick of you and is leaving for Starfleet!" The other boys all hummed and nodded their heads in agreement.

"My mother told me the same." One scrawny kid in the back said.

Jim scowled and turned back to his path. He didn’t believe a word they said, they always lied to get a rise out of him.

-

On his way home, he stopped by Spock’s house.

Ringing the doorbell, he was greeted by her eccentric mother and equally excitable dog.

He spotted her in the kitchen, working alongside her father.

A small wave was exchanged before he was ushered inside.

Pushed down into the extra chair at the table by Spock’s mother, he peered curiously at her father.

"Hello, James. Always, uh, lovely to see you."

If there was one thing Spock and her father shared besides physical looks, it was the fact they were both emotionally stunted. People always made fun of Spock for that fact, which led to her having to be comforted by Jim.

"Hey, Mr. Grayson. How are you doing?"

"I am satisfactory. I am going over the bills with Spock, while she watches the stocks for me."

Jim’s eyebrows shot up. Spock was never before trusted to help her father with anything pertaining to his business. A faint blush covered her cheeks and tips of her ears.

"Mrs. Grayson, I was wondering if I could take Spock to the mall tomorrow."

"What for?" She glanced over from preparing tea.

"To see Santa Clause."

Spock’s head shot up so fast, Jim swore he heard her neck crack.

"Jim, no. We are too old for that nonsense. He is not real."

"I know he isn’t, but wouldn’t it be nice to be a bit nostalgic?"

Amanda walked next to Spock, flicking water onto her cheek.

"Hush, you deserve to get out after the grades you brought home this week. She’ll meet you at your house at eight, I’ll drive you together."

Jim gave her his famous smile, teeth showing and making his eyes crinkle around the corners, the same smile he knew Spock couldn’t resist.

"… Alright." She agreed after a few minutes of tense silence.

-

The first thing Jim noticed when he got home was the air surrounding the walls. It was tense, and silent.

"Mom?"

"In the kitchen." Came Frank’s voice.

Jim slid his shoes off on the mat out of habit of the Grayson’s and walked slowly into the room.

The first thing he saw was Natalie crying, and Sam had his arm around her.

Kicking into action, he kneeled in front of her and tried to coax her hands away from her face.

She obliged after a few soothing words, and dropped her hands onto her lap. Her bushy bangs shadowed her face above her cheeks. “I’m so ugly now.”

Jim didn’t know what she meant until she raised her head. Perched on the bridge of her red nose, was a pair of thick glasses.

"It’s not so bad. Now you even look smart, little Einstein." Natalie hiccupped and gave a watery smile at the nickname he gave her.

"I wish I was as smart as you, Jimmy."

She was the only one allowed to call him that and not receive a blow to the head or face.

"You’re much smarter than me, little sis."

-

That night, nightmares plagued his dreams.

He was a different kid on another planet, being chased through dead cornfields by police. They yelled that when they got a hold of him, he would be dead, just like Sam.

Jim woke up screaming and thrashing, and Frank ran into his room with sleep heavy hair and a gun in one hand.

"What’s wrong, James?"

"I just had nightmares, I’m sorry."

Jim fell back against the pillows with a thud, and heard Frank sigh.

"You have to get those under control."

"Will you tuck me in like you used to?"

"James, you are thirteen. Do it yourself."

"Please?"

"Dammit, kid! I said no!" With that, Frank slammed the door shut and stalked back to his shared bedroom with Winona.

Jim turned in on himself, holding his aching chest as silent tears fell.

-

At age twenty, Jim proved everything his father ever told him. How much of a fuck up he was.

Alone in a dingy bar, he watched as a man that worked at the academy with his mother sat across him.

"Can I help you?" Jim slurred.

"Come to the academy. I’ll pay every expense for you. I’ll even give you the best tutor so you can catch up with your classmates and graduate with them."

Jim scowled, considering throwing the drink he was sloshing around into his face, but he didn’t want it getting back to his mom.

"No."

"Sign up for the fall semester starts tomorrow. Just thought I would try once more."

The man left, leaving seven dollars for the drink he didn’t even touch.

He turned around at the door, and looked at Jim with a strange, steady gaze. “I dare you to do better.”

Jim turned his head so quickly he was afraid of getting whiplash, but the man was already gone.

The last time he heard that was when he was fourteen and he tried his first beer from Frank’s storage. Winona caught him, but promised not to tell on Jim. She left him with a pat on his head and a whisper to do better in life.

Jim gritted his teeth, and tossed aside his half empty bottle.

Picking his leather jacket up from the sticky floor, he walked to his motorcycle and drove to the nearest student library.

He was going to try to get into Starfleet Academy, and with his past grades, he knew he could get in easily.

He wrote an admission poem about Spock, titled ‘Innocence: A Question.’

It wasn’t about the innocence all his friends were finally losing, but rather the innocence of being a child and growing up too fast.

He wrote about the way she seemed happiest when working on something with her father; or when she was most comfortable holed up in her bedroom studying for days without sleeping.

How she never smiled and sometimes cried in her sleep. Jim had asked her once why, and that earned him a black eye that he sported for days.

He got accepted two days later.

Winona didn’t know until a month later.

-

As Jim got home at three in the morning, the once scrawny kid who hung out with the neighborhood gang was sitting on the tree outside his house, smoking a cigar he stole from his father.

"Hey, weirdo. Back already? Where were you? Fucking some girl?"

Jim scowled and flipped him the bird.

The kid hopped down and landed unsteadily over a root.

"Did you hear about Father Tracy? Heard he smoked himself an early death." The kid reached over to grab Jim’s shoulder, forgetting the incident from years ago.

Jim swung back instinctively, heading for the neck but hitting the nose instead.

He was satisfied when the other man’s nose cracked.

-

Frank was lonely from never having Winona around anymore, and because Jim acted exactly like his mother when she was young, he took his loneliness and anger out on him.

Because of that, he chose to use the window in the back to get inside.

As he was rounding the corner of the house, he stopped in his tracks as he spotted a boy with his hands up his sister’s shirt.

Bounding up the porch steps in one leap, he grabbed the young man by the collar and threw him back against the brick wall.

"What the fuck were you doing to my little sister?"

Natalie pushed Jim away, scowling up at him. “Go clean yourself up, James, and don’t let dad catch you. He was drinking again.”

"Okay, little Einstein." Her frown deepened at the name he hadn’t called her for years since she started flunking school.

The last thing he saw before he climbed into the house was her crouching next to him and resuming where they left off.

-

There were two things Jim noticed but never pointed out.

One was how he rarely saw Spock anymore.

When she wasn’t at the private section of the academy, she stayed in her bedroom doing work for her father.

Jim noticed the slow increase of makeup her best friends made her wear. He didn’t say anything, but when she turned her back, he would cough up the foundation and lipstick.

He thought she was more beautiful without it.

The second was how Frank was crueler the longer Winona refused to speak to him.

Instead of drinking himself to borderline death like he has in the past, he took it out on Jim.

More than once he would leave the house in a rush with a split lip and black eye.

-

A year before Jim finished Starfleet; he overheard his mother fighting with Natalie again.

She scowled and laughed at how Winona tried getting her to stop being sexually active while so young.

-

Jim watched behind the shed as Frank hit Sam the one time he was finally home with a belt tied around his knuckles, and winced each time Sam cried out.

-

Winona left states when she couldn’t handle Frank and her family anymore.

This had thrown Frank into frenzy for days, causing Jim to tape himself up more and dress his bloody wounds.

-

Jim decided he was done.

At the age of twenty two, Jim had already given up on himself.

With a brown bag that held his bottled beer, he sloshed the whole thing back with a burning gulp and coughed the tears away.

Dropping the bottle against the floor, he dug in the cabinets for his shaving razor and a pen.

For each line he wrote, he gave himself a slash up his wrist.

He was at half the poem when he decided to give it a name: Absolutely Nothing

Just like his life.

He finished the poem with shaking hands before he pinned it against the bathroom door with scissors, and went to rest himself inside the tub that no one bothered to clean for months.

Minutes later, Jim finally blacked out.


End file.
